In video production: The Stairlift That Lifted More Than Just One Floor

XIXI'S VIDEO IS UNDER PRODUCTION, BUT HERE'S THE GIST OF IT:

🎙️ **"The Stairlift That Lifted More Than Just One Floor"**

There are moments in life—quiet, unassuming—that turn out to be miracles in disguise. Not the kind with flashing lights or angelic choirs. The quieter kind. The kind that happens over text messages missed, stairlifts gone silent, and sons who try their best.

This is the story of one such moment.

An elderly woman, her body weary with time but her spirit far from tired, reached out to us. She lived alone, tucked into a home where silence had grown too loud. Her son had tried to help—tried to fix a loose keyswitch panel on her outdoor Acorn 130 stairlift. A small thing, he thought. A noble effort. But as is often the case with machines—and with life—what began as a simple repair ended with something far more broken: the entire stairlift was now dead.

And with it, her world had shrunk again.

She was hard of hearing, so the texts we sent went unseen. She was lonely, so the silence between our messages felt longer than it should have. And she was hurting—not just in body, but in heart. Her son, though loving, didn’t feel up to the task. He was trying, yes—but sometimes love isn’t enough when you don’t know *how* to help.

So we called her.

And things got better.

Now, picture this: a woman who could barely move from walker to chair to stairlift… and a man named Rob, somewhere else in the country, deciding that this wasn't just about fixing a machine.

It was about fixing a moment in someone’s life.

Rob looked at the problem and saw five distinct issues—each one technical, each one stubborn. Moisture in the DC output wires causing electrical impedance. A power-on LED that refused to light. A broken display. A malfunctioning direction control on the armrest. And worst of all, a carriage with both hinge tabs snapped clean off.

It was not a stairlift—it was a puzzle of sorrow.

And then there was the seatpost cap, seized tight by rust and time, like it had sworn an oath never to be removed. Faced with that, Rob did what any wise technician would do—he borrowed a page from Alexander the Great and decided not to untie the Gorgian Knot…

He simply cut through it.

Without removing the seatpost, he guided her son step-by-step to remove the cover, piece by piece. Through video calls, voice notes, and long phone conversations filled with patience and precision, Rob taught this son how to bring his mother’s stairlift back to life.

Five problems.

One determined technician.

And a son learning not just how to fix a stairlift, but how to show up for his mother in a way he hadn’t before.

In the end, the stairlift worked again.

But something deeper had been repaired, too.

Because when she wrote to us, in her soft, grateful words, that Rob’s help was “exceptionally nice,” she wasn’t just talking about the stairlift.

She was talking about being seen.

About being helped.

About being lifted—not just up the stairs, but out of loneliness, even if just for a little while.

And the total bill?

Just $120 Canadian.

Ninety American dollars.

A pittance, really, for what was restored.

So here’s to Rob, and to everyone like him—who sees a broken machine and hears a broken heart.

Here’s to sons who try, and learn, and grow.

And here’s to the quiet miracles that happen not in hospitals or cathedrals, but in homes where someone still believes in kindness, even when the stairlift won’t go up.

---
Rob's Worldwide Stairlift Repairs, text: 604.512.9567